


Shrapnel

by Hephalex



Series: Not a French Mistake [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, jay/dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hephalex/pseuds/Hephalex
Summary: After a night of wild sex, Jason and Dick have to face the results of Alfred's analysis of Ivy's sex-pollen...





	Shrapnel

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all those who read "Gay Bomb" and "Fallout". I'm grateful for all kudos, comments and hits. I hope you all enjoy the next installment.

This time, Jason felt his eyes roll back in his skull. There was none of the pain of before, when he’d been on his front, ass in the air like some fucking beast, just an addictive burn, the fierce pleasure of two rings of muscle yielding, and the intense feeling of Dick’s dick filling him up. He could feel the heat burning in his face, not shame but pleasure, the kind that wanted to come out of his mouth on a breathy oh fuck. He caught the words on the skin of his arm, still crooked across his eyes from when Dick had insisted on doing this thing face to face, and turned him onto his back. Dick had no such shame. Jason heard him moan, felt the fingers on his thighs close tighter, push harder so his legs spread, and Dick’s sharp hipbones rested against his ass. His cock was all the way up inside Jason now, huge and hard, and making Jason feel things he never imagined. 

The places Jason grew up, the guys he grew up with, people like his dad, this thing, what he was doing for Dick now, was the worst thing a guy could do. If you had to, you could get away with being the fucker, you could even plead defense for a brojob with your bros if you were young enough still. But being under some guy? Spreading your legs? Taking it up the ass? That was irrevocably gay, and the places Jason grew up, it would have gotten your head beaten in. Back when he was barely teen-anything, and jacking tires off the Batmobile, had anyone said to him that one day, he’d been lying on his back, naked, legs spread like some five-dollar whore, taking it in the ass from the former Boy Wonder, Jason would have punched them in the face. He wasn’t gay. But a few years as a Robin, and a few more as rage-machine Red Hood, and a few more after that as outlaw Red Hood gives a guy perspective….

Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? Fuck perspective. Dick pulled back, then shoved back in, and Jason’s toes curled, and the moan he’d been holding came out on a long breath. Fuck perspective, and fuck those people he’s grown up with; those asshats didn’t know nothing from nothing. Because this, this sensation, some supermodel superhero son of a bitch’s big dick in his ass, was the fucking best. He totally got it. Totally got why gay guys did this. Got why Dick had come like he hadn’t gotten any in a year, when Jason had fucked him an hour ago. 

He chanced a look out from under his arm, gaze grazing Dick’s hips, catching briefly on the sight of that long, beautiful cock drawing out, then pushing back in. Then up, over clenching abdominals, to his heat flushed chest, and powerful shoulders, to those Olympic gymnast’s arms, bunching where they were holding Jason’s knees in the crook. There was heat clinging to Dick too, now. A damp sheen to his perfect golden skin, glistening in the hollow of his throat, above his lips. His fucking lips, that two hours ago had been sucking on Jason’s cock like it was candy, and now were gone loose with pleasure, just a frame for little puffs of exertion. God, he was so fucking beautiful. Like, your most perfect fantasy of whatever movie star you were hot for, come to life, and about a hundred times hotter than you had imagined, and giving you the best fucking you had ever had.

Jason let his gaze wander higher, lifting his arm a little. He found Dick watching him, those blue eyes intense, full of something that wasn’t biochemical lust, or pheromone delusion, but something even Jason recognised as true. The adoration came out on a smile, and softly said words.

“You’re beautiful, Jason. You’re fucking beautiful.”

Jason cussed. Damnit, Grayson. 

This isn’t real. That’s Ivy’s toxin talking. The feelings those words lit in Jason were a series of contradictions: annoyance for the silly, sappy credulity of them; despair that they might not be true. It had Jason reaching out, palm moulding to Dick’s hip, then up his flank and back down, over his abdomen, thumbed into his belly button then lower, to where they were joined, to where’s Dick’s perfect cock was gliding back and forth, massaging that deep, wonderful ache. 

“Fucking hell, Dick…” Jason said at last, because it was so fucking intense. His toes were curling again, pulled into a clench by the sensation of the head of Dick’s big cock rubbing over Jason’s prostate, pushing up, up into his insides. Burning, and achy, but blissful, too. He didn’t want it to stop. Don’t stop, he thought. Don’t ever fucking stop.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this. Can’t believe we’ve never done it before. Fuck, this is the best…”

“…s the poison… the p-pollen…the sex pollen…oh fuck…” Jason’s denial disintegrated into a long moan, both hands going to his head for how good it felt, eyes popping as Dick did something with his hips, and his cock stirred some other pot of nerves Jason didn’t know he had. “Oh shit, Dick… Jesus…. it’s… it’s not real…”

“This doesn’t feel real to you?”and Dick pushed forward, went as deep as he could go, so his whole cock was sheathed in Jason’s body, and his hips were pressing against Jason’s ass and thighs. It made Jason’s head fly back, his neck arching. Involuntarily, Jason’s legs closed around Dick’s waist, crossing at the ankle, pulling tight, like he wanted to hang onto that sensation forever, hang on to Dick. 

“It feels real to me.”

Jason shook his head, forced his arm back over his eyes. It wasn’t. It could ‘t be. Any moment, Alfred would text to say he’d isolated the formula, figured out a neutralising agent. A shot in the arm later, and Jason and Dick would be back to frenemies, tinkering at the edge of the fragile foundation of their shared upbringing. They’d pretend like this didn’t happen, and never talk about it again. 

But then Dick resumed his rhythm, and Jason’s eyes were rolling again, and his hands were all over Dick’s skin. He felt one of Dick’s hands let go the thighs around his waist, and a moment later fingers brushed up Jason’s cock, lifted it from where it lay wretchedly hard on his abdomen. He felt Dick draw his foreskin the rest of the way down, felt a thumb brush up his glans, into the slit. Then reverse the motion, first rolling back up, covering the head. He synched the rhythm, jacked Jason as he fucked him. It was too much, and not enough at the same time: an overwhelming, carnal sensation of ecstasy, beneath which there was the hint of something even more intense. Jason found his hips moving to the same rhythm, pushing up into the tight channel of Dick’s fist, and back down onto the solid fullness of his cock. 

His orgasm boiled out of him moments later. Startling in its intensity, throwing Jason’s eyes wide, as in shock, a moment before his whole body seized, thighs clamping around Dick’s waist, head thrown back, nails driving into the warm skin underneath his hands. Grayson, limber show-off sonofabitch that he was, tipped at the waist, closed his mouth around Jason’s cockhead, while never losing that rhythm, thrusting into Jason’s ass. It was the second come in barely fifteen minutes. The first time had been on his knees, stripping himself fiercely to try to find some outlet for the sensations Dick was stirring up in him, and shooting all over the bed, so hard he feared he was emptying his balls for good. The second come was less spectacular, a pulsing overflow of white, which Dick sucked up greedily, and licked away went Jason was spent. 

“So fucking hot,” Dick said, dirty mouthed and wild eyed, and utterly unlike the Dick Grayson the world knew. Jason grunted a single sound, finally let his muscles melt against the bed, felt the blush burn down his face and neck, across his chest. There was a tingling down Jason’s arms, trembling in his fingers where they rested on Dick’s washboard abs, a tremor in his legs that suggested every muscle in his body had turned to string. 

“Shit,” he said, because he had never experienced anything like it.

He opened his eyes in time to see Grayson’s cocky smile disappear. The smugness switched for a look first unreadable, but then palpably intense. He leaned in again, bending at the waist like he wasn’t still knelt under Jason’s thighs, fucking him without a hitch. His arms came up, under Jason’s shoulder, hands cradling his head, and Jason got a moment to see the affection, the adoration in that look, before Dick was kissing him. Not like before, not a crash of lips, and biting teeth, and surging tongue, but something deep, and tender, something from the heart. Jason froze for an instant, taken aback; and then a surge of horror rushed up inside him, washed away his daze with a desperate need to escape. It was too much, too intimate, too intense; he was pushing against Dick then, hands on his shoulders, meaning to push him off. But Dick wouldn’t move. He was strong – all muscle, grip honed on pommel horse, and still rings, and parallel and horizontal bars. He held on, and kissed the fight out of Jason. The breaker of fear receded, drained away, and left desperation behind it. Jason gasped, his hands going from pushing to gripping, holding on for dear life. His thighs reasserted their hold, wrapped tighter, while his arms folded around Dick’s head and pushed the kiss deeper. 

He didn’t want this to end. God, he didn’t want this to end. All those year, so many fucking lonely years, empty, desolate, just rage and hate and the sheer need to survive; not just his enemies, but his own darkness, all of it alone. And here was Dick. Bright, beautiful Dick. The fucking sun. 

Jason couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear to lose it. 

“Little Wing,” Dick was saying against his lips, “Little Wing…” as desperate, falling apart to a series of gasps as he came. Molten hot, slick in Jason’s ass. He groaned and sagged into Jason’s embrace. 

They lay like that for what seemed like an age, until sweat warm skin started to cool, and they felt the chill in that old drafty room. Then Dick pulled out, and the lust diminished, Jason winced for the reality of a sore ass full of come. He was too tired to do anything about it though, limbs under an enervation like lead. He blinked owlishly at Dick for a moment when their eyes met.

“This okay?” 

Jason managed to find enough energy for an eyeroll. “Even if I wanted to, I ain’t got the strength to throw you out.”

It poked a smirk out of Grayson, another fond look. Jason closed his eyes against it, turned onto his side, and pretended he didn’t feel it in his heart when Dick pulled in against him, chest to back, and wrapped him in a hug.

“You’re a fucking sap,” he slurred. 

There was no reply, just a kiss pressed into the back of his neck. The last thing he felt before sleep tugged him under. 

***

He had no clue what time it was when they finally went to sleep. He woke slowly to a stream of sunlight through the half open curtains, and the faint sounds of the estate, the birds and the weather, and nothing else. It was the mnemonic that woke him, a kick in his nostalgia that took him back to identical sleepy mornings, late waking after nights on patrol when he had been a kid and Batman and the work was his world. 

Not identical, he thought, when his brain caught up with him. Grayson was a solid, deliciously warm mass against his right side. Not all over him, like he had been when they went to sleep. Dick had rolled onto his back like Jason had, plenty of space for both of them in the superking, but still touching, backs of hands resting against each other. Jason had expected a wave of revulsion, an instinctual horror emerging from the receding tide of Ivy’s toxin; something strong enough to make him cringe with shame, if not have him jumping out of bed and making a run for it there and then. But that wasn’t what he felt, as he turned on his side, and looked at Dick sleeping beside him. Ity wasn’t what he felt when, inexplicably, he let his hand slide under the covers until its brushed against the warm, soft skin of Dick’s abdomen. He felt other things – a rush of that carnal feeling that had them fucking wildly the night before, and something deeper than that, something more grown up, something he didn’t think he had ever felt before. 

Shit Jaybird, he thought, you can’t be in love with him. 

But the horror was atavistic, a withered remnant of a time before. It disintegrated as Dick stirred to Jason’s touch, turned to face him, found his mouth with his own, without opening his eyes. They kissed, and the kiss put a match to the gasoline of lust still thrumming in Jason’s veins. 

Ivy’s toxin, he thought, it has to be ivy’s toxin, as his hand slid down Dick’s solid stomach, found the warm, slightly tacky lump of his cock, and closed around it. 

They blew each other there, in the mid-morning light, with only the sound of birdsong, and antique clocks in ancient halls, and sunlight caressing the polished, fragrant mahogany and oak. They sixty-nined like pervy-teenagers in the throes of their first experimentation, sucking each other’s cock without hesitation or shame, revelling in how erotic it was, how much it turned them on, using fingers to coax those sensations, touches to over-sensitised skin that had them coming on each other’s tongue. 

In the aftermath they lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling. 

Of course, Dick was the first one to talk.

“You think Alfred’s figured it out yet?”

There was an edge to the question, a sense of something beneath it. Jason pretended he hadn’t noticed.

“He’ll call us when he does.”

“I mean it’s got to be the toxin, right?” Dick asked, still with that edge, wary.

“What else could it be?” Jason looked at Dick this time, a challenge there. Don’t say it.

He watched Dick read him, analyse the nonverbal tells. His own locked up, expression going smooth. “Nothing. I mean, we got hit by the plant goo. It has to be an undiluted form of whatever she’s been sending out on the streets, right?”

“Right.”

A beat of silence followed. It grew more awkward the longer it hung there. 

“I mean,” Dick said at last, hating the silence more than Jason, “it was some pretty fucking intense stuff.” A hesitation, before the confession, like he was testing the lay of the land. “I haven’t ever felt anything this intense. That’s can’t be right, right?”

“I never felt this way about you before tonight.”

That hurt. Jason saw the blow land, needle a flinch out of Dick. Those who hadn’t been trained by the Bat wouldn’t have picked it up, To Jason it was like a neon sign going off, and he felt an echo of it in his own chest. He hunkered down, ignored the regret. Because this couldn’t be anything but a sick joke, and he wasn’t going to hang around for the punchline. “And I ain’t felt the need to go all Brokeback before tonight. And I can’t just be gay for you, right? I mean, that’s bullshit. You’re either at one end of the Kinsey scale, or you're not. And if you’re not, you’re not just gay for one dude, right? That’s fanfic bullshit.”

Dick frowned, “What’s that?”

“What fanfic? Come on, man…”

“No, you ass. That Kinsey thing…”

“Fuck me, Goldie. Do you ever pick up a book without pictures?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to go for another round just yet, Jason-”

“Ass.”

“- and I feel no shame for my love of graphic novels.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Google is your friend.”

Dick snorted, “Whatever. But yeah, no. I don’t think I’ve been hiding a massive gay crush just for you all these years.”

And the echo became something more palpable. Inexplicably, that hurt. Jason hid the feeling with a scowl. 

“Right. I mean, technically, we’re brothers.”

“We were adopted.”

Jason shrugged, “Canonicity on that is blurry. Ya know? With me being declared legally dead an’ all.” He gave himself a frown, “Point is, anyway, we’re kinda related. Related dudes don’t fuck each other stupid four times in an eight-hour period, unless they’re up the fucking creek on supervillain sex pheromones.”

Silence filled the space that followed, awkward and uncomfortable as that conversation with Alfred a few hours earlier. 

“Fucks sake, that was the best sex I’ve ever fucking had, and that can’t be right, right? I mean, that’s just fucking stupid. It has to be the sex pollen, right? Making us feel like that.”

He looked over, expecting to find Dick nodding thoughtfully. Instead, he found that intense gaze on him again: unreadable, and terrifying because of it. 

“The best sex?”

Jason groaned, “Don’t let it go your head, Boy Scout. Like I said, it’s the sex pollen. I could probably have been fucked by Joker and said the same in the circumstances.” It was disgusting before he had finished saying it, made them both grimace. It left another moment of profoundly awkward silence. 

“Jason, look-“ Dick started to say, at last. But Jason spoke over him.

“I mean, what else can it be? We just suddenly decided we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. That’s dumb. I’ve known you for years, and never wanted to fuck you-”

“You were crazy for a long time.”

“Fuck you, man. I was traumatized.”

“So was everyone else by the time you gave up trying to kill us all.”

Jason grimaced again, “Fuck you-”

“Look, I just think it’s worth considering-”

“Considering what?” Jason snapped, looking at him. “What? Huh? That this is real? That these feelings are real? What the fuck do we do with that, Dick?”

“What do you mean?”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but a knock on the door interrupted them.

“Master Richard? Master Jason?”

Alfred’s cut-glass tone had Jason rolling out of, and then under, the bed. 

“It’s your room, you moron,” Dick exclaimed. 

“Are you gentlemen decent?”

Dick sighed, shook his head in faint despair, “I am, Al.”

The door clicked open, and Alfred came a little way through it. A single surveying sweep of eyes said everything, without a word being spoken. 

“I have some news for you. If you would like to clean up and come down the Batcave, I will explain what I have learned.”

“Thanks, Al.”

Alfred nodded, then drew in a weary breath. “Master Jason, it would have been better for everyone had you stayed covered by the bed sheets. Unfortunately, that particular bed has rather high legs. As a hiding place, it is mostly ineffective.”

“Fuck.”

Dick couldn’t help a snigger, the asshole. 

“I will see you in ten minutes, gentlemen. Please put the bedclothes in the laundry on your way down.”

Jason waited until her heard the click of the door closing, before he emerged from under the bed. 

“Do you think he saw me?”

Dick snorted. 

***

They walked into the Batcave fifteen minutes later, in time to pass Damian coming out of the practice suite. He was in sweats, but had a katana blade resting over one shoulder. His expression shifted from neutral, to disgust when he spotted them.

“I do not know what you should both me more ashamed of: falling prey to Pamela Isely’s obvious trap, or your prolonged sexual congress in the third guest bedroom. Pennyworth tried to keep your secret, of course, but I still know everything that goes on here, even if I spend much of time as leader of the Titans-”

“You mean teen Titans, spawn.”

“Good morning, Damian,” Dick said with a smile. 

“The former circumstance is humiliating. The latter is repulsive.”

Jason shrugged, “Yeah, but less humiliating than needing Acriflex for jerk-off burns.” That earned him an outraged look. “Let us know when you get close to something as exciting as sexual congress.”

“Master Damian, breakfast.” Alfred’s voice carried up from the vicinity of the Batcomputer, robbing Damian of his retort. 

“I do not need breakfast, Pennyworth,” he said instead, over his shoulder.

“Nevertheless, breakfast you will have. Now off you go. Chop chop.”

“Chop chop, spawn,” Jason echoed. 

Damian glared, but after a moment stomped up the stairs towards the mansion’s kitchen. 

“I didn’t know he was back,” Dick said to Alfred when they joined him by the computer.

“A flying visit before returning to the Titans. He’s due to leave at lunch time.”

“Great. We’ll have time to catch up.”

Jason grimaced, “Great,” he gave the word air quotes. 

Dick shoved him, but it was more playful than rebuking. “What have you got for us, Alfred?”

Alfred drew in a breath. He had taken a seat in Bruce’s chair again, pulled up some chemical analyses with a few touches to the controls. 

“I completed a full analysis of both your blood chemistries. I ran it twice to be sure. I had the computer specifically look for any foreign particulates, and anything that could affect dopamine levels. I looked for chemical factors that mimicked the effects of neurosteroids and pherines. I searched for androstenone and androstanol.”

Jason and Dick nodded. 

“I ran the same tests on the samples you took from the plants in the Louisiana bayou.”

“Right,” Dick nodded. 

“The plants showed no chemical factors that would have affected human dopamine. However, there were factors that would have affected neurotransmitters such as serotonin, and various other neuropeptides, particularly in the occipital lobe and the cerebral cortex.”

Dick blinked, “Okay, I’m too tired to pretend I understood any of that.” 

“Well, I’m no expert Master Richard. But it looks to me like a chemical designed to mimic or accentuate the effects of hypnotic suggestion. Except with a very intense effect. The kind one might see in telepathic or empathic manipulations.”

“You’re saying we were pushed?” Jason asked. “By a meta?”

“Well, again, caveating what I am about to say with the admission that I am no expert, it seems to me that the chemical factors in these plants were designed to make those exposed to it, much more susceptible to meta telepathy.”

“Like I said: you’re saying me and him,” Jason jerked a thumb at Dick, “were pushed to… you know…” he clicked his tongue in lieu of the word. 

“Yes, the chemical factors are designed to make the drug’s victims easier to psychically control,” Alfred replied.

“So, it’s not Poison Ivy,” Dick said. “Not alone, anyway. There’s some meta out there using telepathy to turn people gay.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” Jason shook his head. “What a fucking weirdo.”

“Good work, Al,” Dick said with a smile. “Did you develop an antidote. Some way to block the effect-?”

But Alfred was holding up a hand, forestalling Dick.

“I said the plant samples you gave me contained chemical factors designed to have the effects I described,” he said. “But it is clear, that to be effective, those chemicals must enter the brain via the blood stream.” He drew in a breath. “So, the drug must be injected, or otherwise enter the bloodstream directly. I checked all six samples of the blood I took from you gentlemen. I instructed the Bat-computer to look for even so much as a molecular trace of the compound I have described.” Another pause, his gaze meeting theirs, serious. “There was no trace, at all, of any of the chemical factors in your respective blood samples. Not even so much as a molecule.”

The statement hung huge and horrifying in the gap of silence. 

Jason blinked at last, “What are you saying, Al?”

“It’s obvious, Jay…”

“I am saying, Master Jason, that you and Master Richard are not now, and have not been recently, subject to the effects of the chemical factors I have described. The drug did not enter your bloodstream at any time in the last 24 hours.”

Jason blinked, looked at Dick, “I don’t get it…”

Dick had gone white at his edges. He swallowed, “What we did, Jason. What we did the last eight hours. It wasn’t because of any drug.”

Jason passed his gaze between them. Then shook his head, “That’s bullshit.”

“Jay-“

“No, fuck that, Dick. Al, you musta missed something’-”

Alfred’s expression was the epitome of equivocation, “Well, that of course is possible. I am not an expert. I am sure Master Bruce, or Master Timothy could give you a more definitive analysis. But I have put the scenario through the Batcomputer’s heuristic and virtual intelligence analyses, and it confirms my conclusion. I am afraid it is a fact that the chemical factors in the plant matter did not at any time enter your bloodstream. Your behavior cannot, therefore, be attributed to any external agent.”

Finally, Dick swallowed, looked up at Alfred. 

“There’s no chance it was something else? Some other chemical…?”

“There is nothing identifiable in your blood, that would confirm an involuntary cause for yours and Master Jason’s…activities…last night. There may be other causes that do not show on a blood analysis-”

“Fuck this,” Jason said. He turned, made towards the garage where his motorbikes was still parked.

“Jason-“ Dick went after him, caught his shoulder. 

Jason shrugged him off, rounded on him. “What…? Huh…? What, Dick?”

Dick gave back a pleading look. “We need to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Are you kidding me?” Dick breathed. “If we didn’t do this because of Isley’s toxin, or whatever, then we did it because….” He trailed off. 

“What? Huh?” Jason snapped. “We did it because, what? We’re fucking in love? What? We’re going to be sweethearts now? We’re gonna go pick out curtains? Live happily ever after?”

“Jay…”

“What, Dick? What does this fucking mean to you? You think this means anything? Think this means anything at all?”

“Jay…” and it was pleading again.

Jason searched his gaze for a moment and then shook his head. “No. Nope. Nope-out, Goldie,” he held up his hands. “I can’t do this. This is bullshit.”

He turned, resumed his stride towards the motorcycle. Dick watched him go, watched him jam on the helmet, the jacket, gun the bike’s engine. The screech of rubber burning on concrete made him wince, made him look away as Jason sped out of the cave. 

A moment passed, and he felt Alfred’s hand on his back. 

“Jesus, Al,” he said, on a breath that came out hot and anguished. He shook his head, “What the fuck am I going to do?”


End file.
